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He doesn’t expect to have company— to him, it’s a mild winter, but to the Sniper, and particularly the Sniper’s parents, even the screened-in porch is freezing. He expects a quiet moment with his pipe and the cats, while the in-laws coo over the baby and crowd around the fire, shrouded in blankets.
He sits on the little padded wicker bench, the end table close at hand, with the ashtray he hasn’t much used since buying the pipe, and Minou settles near him to purr, Puss curled up beneath the bench.
When the door out onto the porch opens and the tread isn’t the Sniper’s, he turns, surprised.
"Did you come out to smoke?" He asks, rising to offer the Sniper’s father one of the wicker chairs, the one with the better cushion.
"To talk, actually." He says, as if it pains him to do so.
"A man can do both." The Spy scoots the ashtray towards the chair, and after a while, the Sniper’s father sits. The Spy finds a nearly-empty pack of cigarettes, on the little shelf beneath the end table, and lights one for the other man. "May I help you in any way, then?"
"Dunno. Dunno. You and my daughter— My son, I mean, my kid… You doing all right with the baby?"
"We are. We are terribly happy with her. And with each other."
"Good. Good. A little girl… that’s how Vic looked, when she— he— when he was only about a month old. That’s almost how he looked. Guess that means it really is… I mean, how did you do it?"
"My cousin carried the baby for us. She is half him and half me. You should come back when it is springtime here. She’ll be bigger then. And you will find the weather nicer."
"Yeah. Yeah, we should do. Easter. D’you… do you do Easter?"
The Spy nods. “Not in a long time. I… I have not kept up with many holidays, while I have been alone. I look forward to having them, now that I have a family. Passover with my cousin’s family and then Easter here at the house— I don’t know what I would serve… what is the etiquette regarding lamb, when you are feeding people who raise sheep?” He smiles.
"Dunno if there’s etiquette. Don’t do lamb much, ourselves— mutton, sure, but lamb… lamb’s got too many productive years ahead of it to waste eating. That’s just ‘round the station, though, I’m not opposed to it if you do serve it. But I mean, you ask my wife, she’ll tell you I eat whatever you put in front of me."
"Good." The Spy laughs. "Then I won’t worry."
"You’re taking care of my— of Vic all right?"
"I like to flatter myself I am, but… well, you will see the town eventually, you’ll see then. People here like him very well, and I have yet to meet anyone who would say to my face that they take issue with the way we live our lives. He eats well, he keeps warm, and he… he is such a good father. I expect once upon a time he had a very good example."
The Sniper’s father nods, acknowledging the olive branch for what it is. Time and distance have made acceptance a little easier, and the birth of a granddaughter has made it easier still, but he still has no real solid idea of how to talk to his son, or his son-in-law most of the time.
"Reckon I did my best. He… He’s happy now, isn’t he? She wasn’t, when she was a kid. When he was real little, but then… I just remember seeing it all go out of her and not knowing what was wrong. Never did figure out any way to fix it in all those years, but he looks… he looks happy now, with the kid. I guess that’s all I had to say."
He stubs his cigarette out and lingers a little while on the porch. There is a comfortable distance between the Sniper’s father and Minou, something the cat appreciates. He has a fondness for the Sniper’s father that seems to revolve around the way the man never tries to pet him.
"Freezing out here." He huffs, chafing at his arms.
"Spring will be warmer. Your son can take you down to watch the football matches— that’s something fathers and sons do, isn’t it? I was very young the last time my father could take me… I suppose we were not the most sporty of people, my family. But we might all go, or go picnicking, when the weather is nice for it, if you come again."
"Think we will. It… it’d be good to see the tyke growing up. Don’t want to stay away too long. We could come up here for Easters, if you… I mean, you ought to come down for Christmas, when she’s a bit older." He made the invite gruffly, without looking at the Spy, but it was an invite all the same.
"That sounds reasonable to me." The Spy nodded, abandoning his pipe and holding the door into the house open. "If no one has put the kettle on while we’ve been out smoking, I will, I think— No, go on, hold your granddaughter."
The Sniper’s father nodded, and the Spy watched him join the Sniper and his mother on the sofa, watched the cautious joy break out across his face as he took the baby.
"Hullo there, Princess… come and sit with Granddad."